Video Camera
by Poignant Ignoramus
Summary: Puck has to ask Rachel for a favour: he has to use her video camera. Multi-chaptered fic. Puck-centric, with some Puckleberry in later chapters. Rated T for language.
1. Decisions

**A/N-**My second story! Originally, a oneshot, but I decided to make it a little longer. Puck's POV in this chapter, though it may switch up. This chapter doesn't have any of our favourite crazy ambitious girl, but we get to see some of sweet Puck. Enjoy!

Thanks to all of my reviewers and everyone who favorited my last story! You guys made my week.

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**Video Camera**

**Chapter 1: Decisions**

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

It was a Saturday night and where was I? Rushing around my house, pulling open random drawers and throwing things onto the floor. Hell, I was on my hands and knees, poking through things. _Just like a normal Saturday night, actually, _I chuckled, but I groaned at my current situation and forced myself to focus back onto my search.

It all started about an hour ago. I was sitting at my computer when my brat sister ran into my room yelling something about her Barbies. From what I could understand, she was going on about a giant wedding and how I had to attend.

I'd rather burn in hell.

And I told her as much. Well in different words, of course. Last thing I needed was for that little devil to run down to the mother and tattle about my use of the 'h-word'. Hour-long lectures? Fuck no.

After ignoring some whining and her throwing a fit, I managed to get her out of my room.

Now, before you judge, I'm a fucking awesome brother, trust me. In fact, I was getting her out of my room for her own good. Let's just say that if she turned and saw what had been on the computer screen when she barged in…she'd have some graphic scenes for her dolls to play out during their honeymoon.

Anyway, the point is, during her fit, my sister managed to knock over a pile of papers that I had on a table. When she was out, I moved to throw the papers back into a pile when I saw a bright yellow flyer. Not remembering what it was, I pulled it out and skimmed it.

When I saw the black and white picture at the top of the page, my mind clicked. Frantic, I checked for a date. The flyer was for a contest, one that I had to enter. I finally found the time that the contest closed. Tonight, a minute before midnight. Shit.

Cue me looking around the house like a madman to find our video camera. I swear, that thing about the tiny goblins that live in your house? It's fucking true. Somehow, those little assholes steal all the shit you need and return it way too late.

I mean, to enter the contest, I had to upload a video of myself. Fuck, even that sounds queer. It's like I've suddenly grown a vagina. Or become Kurt. _Look at me filming myself! _Just like Berry and her stupid Myspace videos.

Not that I've actually seen those videos. I mean, they're stupid. Even though she is kinda hot in them. Fuck.

_Wait, Rachel has a video camera…_I pushed that thought out of my mind. There's no way I'm asking Berry for this.

_But then…_ A niggling voice in the back of my head made itself known. I shut that thought up too and looked harder.

Five minutes later, I decided that I'd just have to ask for help searching. The decision was unnecessary though. My mom was asleep on the couch after a long shift at work and I couldn't find it in me to wake her up, after all she did for the family.

I risked asking my sister instead. I knocked on her door. "Hey squirt," I called.

She didn't respond right away, so I pressed my ear to her door and heard a little sniffle. After knocking again, she spoke. "Go away, Noah. We don't need him at your wedding, do we, Barbie?"

I felt a pang of guilt after hearing that and remembering everything that I had done to her earlier. Along with the guilt came a flash of irritation at my softness, but I suppressed that with a sigh. I might deny it while at school, but my mother and sister were the only ones who could ever question my badassness.

The annoying little voice in my brain led on. _They're not the only ones, Noah._ I pressed myself to focus back on my sister. _Voices in my head. Fucking fabulous. Not only am I a complete failure at life, I'm also fucking psycho. Fuck. _

Before the tinny voice could reproach my constant use of the f-word (_cause that's absolutely normal) _I called back through the door, saying, "Look, I'm sorry alright?" I took the silence as a confirmation that she was listening. "Next time one of your dolls does anything important, save me a seat in the front row; I'll be there."

I heard a giggle, and a whispered "D'you hear that Barbie? Noah's gonna come for your one day anniversary!"

I tried to stop it, but my kid sister's fun brought a wry smile to my face. But knowing that I wasn't completely forgiven, I decided to give her some time to forget. "Well, I'm going out for a little while, okay? If you need anything, Ma's downstairs sleeping. But only wake her up if you really need to. She's really tired."

"Okay, Noah!" There she was. Satisfied that she was no longer angry at me, I realized what I had just said and decided.

I suppose it made sense. I wasn't getting anywhere with my search and I was on a deadline. Damn my procrastination. The end of me, I swear. The voice in my head listed all the reasons why it was a good idea. Everyone knew that she had a fully functional video camera, and there was no fucking way I would film myself in front of one of the guys. I didn't care what she thought of me really. Besides, she owes me one. Probably. Maybe.

Whatever the reason, that voice had wormed its way into my head and convinced my conscious mind gleefully. _Stop fussing, Noah. It's a perfectly rational idea. You trust her._

I pushed the voice down and rushed down the stairs.

I was going to pay a visit to Rachel Berry.

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**A/N-**A little more serious, but I hope you liked it! Review please!


	2. Messages

**A/N-**Sorry for taking so long to update! I had such a busy week. Here's some Rachel POV. No Puck, but I promise that they'll be together next chapter. Which, incidentally, should be up soon. Enjoy!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited this story!

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**Video Camera**

**Chapter 2: Messages**

"No, no, no, no!"

It was a Saturday night and where was I? Rushing around my room, pulling open my closet and raking my hands through my clothing. Here I was, looking for a half-decent outfit to replace the embarrassing animal pyjamas that I had been in a few minutes earlier. Why the furious rush? Noah Puckerman's imminent arrival.

I know what you're thinking. Noah Puckerman spending a Saturday night with Rachel Berry? Well, it all started about five minutes ago. I was sitting at my piano, playing through some of the sheet music I've amassed over the years while tentatively pencilling in changes to the arrangement.

What can I say? These people may be smart enough to create and sell their arrangements, but they would never attain the level of expertise and specification that a talented musician and performer such as myself requires.

Anyway, I had my cell phone on the coffee table behind me, just in case my dads called to check up on me. They were both out for the weekend, hardly a new event. _This house might as well be under my name, for the lack of time Dad and Daddy spend in it,_ I thought wryly, before feeling a pang of reproach. They do work hard to provide for me, giving me everything I could ever want and more.

Contrary to popular belief, I was not a spoiled brat. Yes, my fathers spent money on lavish gifts, but they just wanted me to be happy. I was quite aware that my life was quite better off than many of the others in Lima. In fact, I was the one who persuaded Dad to send money to all of the different charities I could find.

Where was I? Ugh, I guess Ms. Raymond was right when she told me that I had a tendency to ramble in my English essays. But I still maintain that I did not deserve that 70 she gave me in my last essay. _Probably still bitter after I spotted her various typos in that assignment package she gave us last week_.

But on with the show. After an hour of singing, my throat was feeling dry, so I got up for a glass of water. On the walk back to my baby grand, I saw a light out of the corner of my eye. Looking towards the table, I realized that my phone was buzzing. _Silly me, how could I have forgotten that my phone was on vibrate?_

I glanced at the screen and my jaw dropped. Nine new messages? _But who…?_

I quickly flipped my phone open. And my jaw dropped even wider, if that was even possible.

I had one message from my fathers, asking how everything was holding up at the nest. After checking the timestamp on the message, I saw that it had been sent twenty minutes ago. I sent a quick reply back, assuring them that I was perfectly fine.

After that task was completed, I took a big breath and started to read through the other eight texts. All from Noah.

The first one had only been sent fifteen minutes ago. _Eight texts in fifteen minutes?_

For the sake of keeping this record as detailed as possible (I'm nothing if not detailed) I have copied down his messages. They read as follows:

**r u there?**

**Berry, can i come ovr? **

**just a small favor, pls?**

**Rachel, I really need your help with something**

**Nothing dirty, I swear, Rachel.**

**I'm serious! Reply please!**

**Rachel, I'm just going to come over if you do not reply. I know from Kurt that you're home.**

**Fuck it, I'm coming. You better be there.**

If my house was not as meticulously sealed against pests as it was, flies would surely find their way into my mouth. That is how low my jaw was hanging.

I stood staring at my cellphone for roughly a minute, reading and rereading the messages. At first I had been outraged at the sheer illiteracy of his messages. He must have assumed that I was ignoring his messages due to lack of grammatical sense, because I noticed that he actually took the effort to punctuate. My heart did a little flip. _My goodness, the smallest things just get to me_, I thought with a shake of my head.

I was wondering what Noah could need from me so desperately. I really doubted that he was coming over on a Saturday night for tips on improving his vocal range. _Not that he would need too much help; he's better than most of the males in the glee club._ It was true. He may lack the amount of experience that I have acquired, but I can admit that there is a certain passion in his voice that Finn's just lacks.

My brain instinctually worked on comparing the male vocals of our club, before I forced it back onto the situation at hand. Whatever Noah needed, he must have exhausted all other options if he turned to me and even considered contacting Kurt. We were not exactly what you would call friends. The slushies had stopped, but they were replaced with a strange, yet painfully polite, silence of sorts.

I read the last message. After everything else that I had learned, I was not even fazed at Noah's use of a curse word. Time was just passing like molasses as I stared blankly at my phone, thoughts coursing through my head. At one point, one thought broke forward into the forefront of my mind.

Noah is coming over.

Cue the big rush.

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**A/N-**I must have caught Rachel's rambling disease, because I meant for Puck to come in this chapter. But fear not, dear readers, the base chapters have been laid, and it's on with the action from here.

I must ask a favour from you guys. I would really appreciate it if you guys could drop name ideas for Puck's sister and mom! Leave them in the reviews, please!


	3. Questions

**A/N-**Here we are, folks. An extra long chapter to make up for my lateness? POVs are clearly marked. Finally, some interaction between our favourite Jews!

Thanks for all of the reviews and just the general story lovin.

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**Video Camera**

**Chapter 3: Arrival**

**_Puck's POV._**

I got to Berry's house and pulled over, my thoughts swirling like those stupid slushies. _I'd kill for one right now, actually…_I silenced that voice (and my grumbling stomach) and tried to concentrate on what I was doing.

_Okay Puckerman, who what where when why how. _Well, I had the who, the where and the when down.

How the hell did I come here?

I had no fucking idea.

Well that's a lie. I drove. Obviously. _Doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to figure that one out. _More specifically, I grabbed my phone and jumped out of the house. In hindsight, not such a brilliant idea, but I wasn't exactly in the running for valedictorian, y'know? _If those sap teachers have anything to do with it, wheelchair boy will get it, though Hell hath no fury like a Berry scorned. _

I chuckled a bit at that thought, imagining Berry cooking up a plan to get the award, wincing a bit as I imagined her 'dealing' with Artie. _Everyone else might not notice it, but Rachel has ways of getting what she wants. I mean, Schuester can pretend all he wants, but Rachel is more than co-captain._

Continuing on, What the hell am I even doing?

Well, I was sitting in the cab of my truck, just staring up at her house. _God, this sounds like a sappy fucking chick flick already. _No matter how many times I had come here before to rehearse numbers for glee (everyone has at one point or another; Mr. Schue has this thing about interacting with each other) I couldn't get over how big it was. I mean, her house was fucking huge.

Let me put this into terms for you. My house could have probably fit in her garage. Hell, her house was like Princess Peach's fucking castle.

My thoughts on the size of Peach's castle were jarred when my cellphone chimed. _Speaking of Princess Peach… _Rachel finally replied. Thank God.

Looking up, I saw shadows flitting across her white blinds. _So she's changing, huh? _One of my eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly when I decided to take advantage of this opportunity.

I dashed over to her doorbell and rang it over ten times in quick succession. _With luck, she'll run down with nothing on yet_, I thought before the gravity of my task hit me. A serious expression snapped on my face just in time because one second later, her massive door swung open.

"Noah," she gasped.

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_**Rachel's POV.**_

When I heard two familiarly loud notes resonate through my house, I actually froze for about a millisecond. However, my petrification was quickly cured by the second ring. And the third. And the fourth.

Quickly realizing that Noah had no respect at all for my doorbell, _who knew that he could be so darn insistent?_, I quickly finished buttoning my jeans and grabbed a scrunchie, tying my hair up while rushing down the stairs.

Throwing open the doors, I saw Noah standing on my doorstep, a serious expression on his face.

"Noah," I gasped, slightly winded from rushing to get ready and sprinting up and down my staircase.

His serious expression held for a couple seconds before he broke out into laughter.

"Noah, if I do recall, you are the one who so ungraciously interrupted my musical composing to ask for an ambiguous favour, only to show up at my domicile and assault my doorbell!" I yelled impatiently, standing with my hands on my hips.

I noticed that he made a feeble attempt to cut down on his laughing, obviously affected by my (hopefully) threatening stance. _They don't call me Scary Berry for nothing_, I thought, even though I was not actually completely sure who 'they' was.

His chuckles subsiding enough to choke out a semi-coherent sentence, he forced out the words, "Berry…look…mirror…fuck…can't…breathe…" before collapsing into another fit of chest-heaving guffaws.

Outraged at his impropriety (and slightly embarrassed at whatever caused him to laugh so forcefully), I slammed my door in his face. This had the desired effect of silencing his laughter, _Finally, I was able to make something go right. _I took his momentary silence to shoot a quick look at my appearance in the mirror that was to the right of my door.

I quickly realized the trigger of Noah's actions. In fact, I would have laughed myself if all the blood in my body wasn't on a mad dash towards my cheeks, turning my face a bright red that would have put any stop light to shame.

My reflection looked outrageous, to put it lightly. My hair, despite my scrunchie's efforts to contain it, was sticking up at various angles as I had let it air dry after my shower. My jeans were wrinkled, while one pant leg had somehow wrapped around itself, making it a couple inches shorter than the other. Turning around, I could see that a sliver of my pink underwear was just visible above the back of my pants. _Thank goodness that he hadn't been able to see that, _I sighed.

Yet all of this sloppiness could not quite out do my top.

In all the hurry to get to Noah at my door, I had taken care of my bottoms. Unfortunately, I forgot to change out of my top. _There I was, all dressed up with nowhere to go_, I thought wryly, the phrase familiar after hearing Dad say it over and over. If my hair and my pants weren't enough to send him laughing all the way down the block, my pajama top did it. It was bright yellow with pictures of skating penguins tiled on the fabric.

At that sickening image, I was able to comprehend the forces that would compel people (such as Noah) to swear like a scallywag. (This was also a commonly used word in this household.)

I straightened myself up just in time. Noah had finally broken out of his shock and had started to knock tentatively at my door.

"Hey, Rachel…" He began, just loud enough for his voice to permeate the door.

I spun open the lock and pulled open the door slowly, crossing my arms self-consciously over the birds skating over my chest.

He glanced down at my arms, the design bringing a flash of a smirk back to his face before the solemn visage returned.

"Berry, I'm sorry. I really do need your help…"

I rose up my hand to stop him and said, "Though I was thoroughly insulted at your lack of tact with your mocking me, especially when I factor in the fact that you are in need of my assistance, I have taken the time to evaluate my momentarily dishevelled appearance and I can comprehend the comical aspect of my attire. For that reason, I have chosen to forgive you."

Noah let out the sigh that he had been holding.

I realized how inhospitable I had been, leaving Noah to stand on my doorstep the entire time. In fact, the cold from the oncoming winter was already seeping past my furry friends. "Look, Noah, my dads would kill me if they found out that I had left a guest out in the cold so long. Come in, come in."

After retreating back to the living room with Noah, I sat on the bench of my abandoned piano while he settled awkwardly into a seat to the side.

I averted my eyes from his strange gaze and focused on putting away my sheet music that was carelessly strewn on the piano and even on the floor. Noah's next question struck me oddly, though I figured it was his attempt at small talk.

"Berry, where are your dads anyway?"

Afraid that he would get the wrong idea, I covered all bases. "They are both attending a conference upstate, but that does not mean that you get a free pass into my pants, Noah."

"Berry, chill out okay? Contrary to popular belief, I can control my p-"

I gave him a quick glare that made him reconsider his words before continuing.

"My libido. I'm here on business."

I cocked an eyebrow at his last statement. _Perhaps I did spend too much time around Noah._ "Business? What is it exactly that you need from me anyway, Noah? You seemed pretty frantic in your text messages."

Noah straightened his posture, looked me straight into my eyes and said calmly, "Rachel Berry, I am in need of your video camera."

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**A/N_-_**_Any suggestions for Puck's mother and sister's names?_ Leave them in the reviews please!


	4. Considerations

**A/N**-Not as long, but I plan on having another chapter up either today or tomorrow before I leave for vacation. Rachel's POV as this chapter has some (relatively strong) Rachel drama. It also shows a peek of Rachel and Puck's relationship with each other.

A minor rewrite to chapter 3, nothing major. I just had to tidy up some sentences.

Thanks again for all of the love my story's getting! You guys are awesome.

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**Video Camera**

**Chapter 4: Considerations**

In all my fifteen arduous years on this planet, I had never heard anything more surprising in my life. Not even in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined Noah Puckerman asking me to use my video camera. _Not saying that I dreamt about Noah Puckerman asking me for other things; he was not featured in my dreams, never mind my wildest dreams…and that's not to say that I have wild dreams, with Noah or otherwise._ I shook my convoluted thoughts out of my head with a sigh.

_Noah Puckerman appears in my conscious thoughts, as well as my subconscious reveries with the same frequency as any other glee member. _I nodded my head firmly at this compromise and drew up my jaw upon the sudden realization that it was hanging at least an inch below the rest of my head.

Even though I found it strange that Noah would need a video camera, I suppose it would make sense to ask for mine. After all, when I informed my fathers that I would start posting videos of myself and my talent on Myspace (and convincing them that it was perfectly safe while informing them of the possible future benefits that putting myself out there could bring), Dad insisted that they would not have grainy videos of their little girl out on the Interweb, World Wide Net or whatever it was called (Daddy was the resident tech expert in the house; he worked for an IT company). This sparked a week's worth of fervent research and fervid searching for the absolute best video camera that the market of Lima and the surrounding area had to offer.

If there's anything you need to know about the Berrys, it's that when we put our minds to something, it will (usually) get accomplished without a hitch.

Long story short, my video camera produced movie-quality videos to complement my showbiz-quality voice. _Yeah, if only those Cheerios would actually watch through one of my videos instead of just insulting them. Then they could find it in them to compliment at least one of those stellar qualities._

My mood dropped a notch when I imagined what my dads would do, were they to know that no one actually cared about the quality of the camera that they had so painstakingly sought out as a proof of their commitment to my abilities. That even the cheapest video camera would have the exact same responses.

Anyway, Noah chose well in coming to me. But that did not explain why he needed it.

Right before I could inquire as to his motives behind needing my video camera, he spoke to ease the awkward silence that had descended as I was thinking.

"Look, Rachel. I'm not saying that I need to film in your room too, or anything…"

I watched him cringe slightly as I realized what he had just inadvertently admitted. _My Myspace videos? _

Noah soldiered on. "I mean, if I could just borrow your video camera for tonight…I could have it back for you bright and early tomorrow morning. I…Please, Berry?" His pleading was evident in his eyes for a split second before his face snapped back to one of indifference, but with a little crease between his eyebrows.

I could just imagine the thoughts running through his mind. Something along the lines of, 'Noah Puckerman does not beg,' with profanities thrown in. _Why these words hold such appeal to people today is completely beyond me_, I mused, before I was interrupted by Noah talking again, trying to break me from being shocked into silence.

"Just give me your camera, and I'll be out of your hair…and your sofa."

I don't know if it was my manners pushing through, or an unconscious desire for him to stay in my house, but I was able to muster up one word. "No."

Noah looked genuinely confused for a moment, probably about to question what I meant.

Clearing my throat, I continued. "I can not simply allow you to take my video camera home. It is not a question of trust, really. I am quite sure that you are capable to safeguard anything I trust you with. The main reason that I can not, in good conscience, permit you to handle my video camera on your own is that frankly, it is an upscale device with many different features. It took me several nights to go through and highlight the manual to learn about the various features included in my camera that I could use to manipulate the quality of my video. Since I have obvious experience using this camera, I feel that you would be able to achieve a better output with me manipulating the controls."

I was taking in a breath when Noah snapped, "Look, I'm not stupid. I can work a fucking camera, Berry. And it doesn't need to be as prissy perfect as your videos. I just need to record myself singing a damn song to enter this stupid fucking contest, so if you could just stop ragging on me and just hand me the camera, I'll be able to do this shit on my own."

I was absolutely appalled. "Let me put it into layman's terms for you, Noah. It took me an hour just to find the power button, never mind how to shoot the 'prissy' videos, as you call them. If you want to use my camera, you accept my help. My God, I am sick and tired of everyone just writing off my videos as simple garbage, assuming that I just like to show off. It's just too much work to open your eyes for three minutes to see the effort and work I put in just to produce one measly video that I know will only get offensive comments, telling me to go die, or to burn my camera before it can produce anymore of this 'bullshit'. Do you think it's fun? Every time I click the upload button, I am fuelled by the meagre hope that someone, someday will chance upon a link to one of my videos and realize the talent that everyone else just sneers out. The meagre hope that my efforts will be appreciated for once. But no. Video after video, I get plenty of views. People who click on the link, not to praise me for my excellent tone and pitch, but to criticize what I'm wearing, or the décor in the room."

I took a steadying breath before continuing. "You come into my home, asking me for a favour, yet you have the gall to defile my sanctuary with your deplorable language. What I am saying is, if you need something from me, I need respect from you. We do this on my terms, for once. If you would like to use my video camera, you accept my help. Agreed?"

It was Noah's turn to be stunned into silence. In truth, I would be shocked by my speech. Everything I had been holding in for years finally burst open.

I wasn't sure what caused it, but Noah pushed my buttons in the slightest possible way which released all my bottled-up emotions like a hurricane on an unsuspecting tourist. These snaps had happened twice before, but I was never embarrassed afterwards. Talking at Noah was actually very comforting, and I felt comfortable with him in a way that I never was with Finn, or any others, really.

His face was impassive as he asked cautiously, "Are you finished?"

I sighed meekly and asked, "Do you agree to my terms and conditions, Noah Puckerman?"

He got up from his seat on the couch and put both of his hands on my cheeks, saying, "Rachel Berry, I would be glad to accept your help on this endeavour."

The customary mega-watt smile returned to my lips. "Great! So, what's this you mentioned about performing a song?"

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**A/N-**More name suggestions for Puck's mom and sister would be lovely. Leave them in the reviews!

Thanks to those who have given me some recommendations, I'll definitely think about them. Hope you're enjoying the story!


	5. Buttons

**A/N**-Contrary to popular belief, I did not, in fact, die. Like others before me, school got ahold of me and drastically reduced my story writing time. Actually, I wrote this instead of finishing up a project I'm supposed to be working on. This does not bode well.

Anyway, this is terribly short, in my opinion. Puck's POV, just to keep the story going. This story will be coming to an end, I think. Next chapter we find out more about this contest. (I promise!)

And of course, thanks to all the people who are loving my story even though I had half-abandoned it. Enjoy.

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**Video Camera**

**Chapter 5: Buttons**

After a few minutes of convincing and a quick dash to pick up the guitar I had left in my truck, we were off to the races.

If there was any 'silver lining' to the gigantic grey cloud that was asking Rachel for a fucking video camera, it appeared while we were heading up to her room.

Literally speaking, the silver lining was blue denim and it outlined Rachel's ass. Quite fucking magnificently, if I may add.

It's not like I meant to stare, but she was walking a few steps ahead of me, illustrating some point or other frantically with her hands. Her backside was literally staring me in the face. _That aaaaaaaaass._

Suddenly she whirled around. _Fuck, I did not just say that aloud. Did I?_

"Noah Puckerman, have you been listening to a _single_ word I've been saying?" I stared, dumbfounded, but in less time than it took for me to cock an eyebrow and retort with some flirty comment, she dashed up the stairs and waited for me at the top with her hands on her hips. _And what wonderful hips they were. _

I took my lazy time to climb up the stairs. Her face was red and her eyebrows were furrowed, but the corner of her mouth was curling up involuntarily. _I guess I didn't say it out loud_. Or did I? The annoying voice in the back of my head (he's been chatting so much lately, it's like we're old pals) managed to plant a tiny seed of doubt in my mind.

_Maybe she likes the attention._

Fortunately, my burlier subconscious was able to suppress the infiltrating thought. (Mother of God, I've been playing way too many video games.)

When I finally got up the stairs, she let out a small huff and led the way to her room. Stepping in, I looked around and was stunned by the sight.

"What? Oh, Dad had the room repainted. Something about a maturing colour palette for a young lady or some inane drivel like that. It's beautiful, but I don't understand what was wrong with the other one."

I turned around slowly and looked around, finally meeting Rachel's eyes. "Well for one," I started, setting down my guitar, "your last paint job looked exactly like one of the rooms in my sister's Barbie house. Do you know how hard it is to get in the mood when all I can think of is Barbie and Ken discussing what ice cream flavour to have at their wedding? Honestly, babe. The Puckosaurus is good, but then you've got Kelly running all over the fucking place, yelling-"

It was then that I saw the way Rachel was looking at me. _Oh, fuck. I knew I shouldn't have started in on this. What kind of bad ass knows who the fuck Kelly is, anyway? Fuck, fuck, fuck it all._

Before the creepy staring got out of hand, I cleared my throat and wandered over to the video camera which was already set up on a tripod, as promised. Finally snapping out of whatever the fuck was wrong with her, she murmured a little weakly, "Yeah, so that's it…you can just sit down in that chair and uh, do your thing and I can manipulate the controls."

Something must have flashed upon my face, or Berry's a fucking mind reader because she quickly came up with some sort of apology.

"Look, Noah, I get that you're not thrilled about anyone seeing what you're planning to do, and I'm assuming that it is quite personal by the way you're so defensive about it, but if that's not it…You are singing a song, that much I can tell by your guitar, and I just wanted to let you know that you shouldn't be embarrassed about your voice and that any criticism I might or might not offer would be completely constructive because your voice really is lovely, at times, more so than Finn's-"

Rachel's speech was cut off by her own hand clamping over her mouth as her wide eyes stared at me in shock at what she had just slipped.

I gave a little smirk, _honestly, after that ego padding, I couldn't resist it_, and started to speak before Rachel held up a finger. I stood back bemused as she went through the rest of her talk.

"Anyway, my point is, though I don't understand why you would mind me listening in on your singing, I respect that you want your privacy and I am obligated to give you your desired space, because Miss Pillsbury has really been drilling that lesson into my head lately. Something about everyone having their own personal bubble that they like people to stay out of, though by that point she may have been talking about her OCD. Though I welcome people sitting in on my performances, I suppose that it might not be for everyone, so I've decided that I will just set up the camera and you can just call me up when you're done so I can upload the video to my computer and edit out any bad takes you have. My camera has the memory to last you a couple hours, so there shouldn't be any problems there. So just pull out your guitar and I can set this up and you should be ready to go, okay?"

At that point, I couldn't wrap my head around all of the words she said. _How the fuck can so many words come out of a person so small? _Failing to come up with a previous time when she was able to leave me at a loss for words this often in a day, I obediently pulled out my guitar as she fussed with the camera. After a few minutes, _she wasn't kidding when she described how difficult it was to work her camera, _she stood up stiffly, asking if I was ready.

"I'm always ready for you, Rach," I replied with a poorly disguised leer at her.

She coloured immediately, but just shook her head with a smile, while counting down.

I decided to take this opportunity before she left the room. "Hey, Rachel, thanks for this."

Giving me a small smile, she just counted. "Three, two, one, go." Flipping a switch, she gave me a thumbs up and quietly walked out the door and down the stairs.

With one last look at her retreating form, (and her legs, Lord bless those legs,) I took a deep breath and faced the camera.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**A/N-**Next chapter will be more fantastic, I swear. Reviews would be lovely.


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